


The Baggins and the Scribe

by TarotTerra



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Gen, POV Original Character, Romance, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-13 01:20:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TarotTerra/pseuds/TarotTerra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo may have run our his door, but that was only because those blasted Dwarves managed to rope his younger sister into their blasted adventures! Rating may change in future.</p>
<p>Rating may change in the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One: The Company Arrives and Makes a Mess of Dinner

**Author's Note:**

> It may start off as a simple retelling of the movie, but original scenes and actual imagination will be put into this story once the plot wants to work with me, I promise.

It all began with a hole in the ground. Not a dark damp dirt hole, filled with worms and oozy smells. This was a hobbit hole, or a Smial, and that means comfort. It means particular comfort to two Hobbits in general- Bilbo and Bramblerose Baggins, to be precise. The son and daughter of Bongo Baggins, a quite respectable hobbit as hobbits go and Belladonna Took, one of the least respectable hobbits ever to grace the shire.

Both the children- now adults, were popular hobbits, in their own ways. They lived together in their parents' home, a beautiful little Smial called Bag End, each being un-wed.

Bramblerose, while she had had a handful of suitors in her time, had never taken too deeply an interest into any of them, though she suspected that she would have had more hobbit lads offering her flowers had it not been for her older brother glaring at them from over her shoulder, and Bilbo himself had yet to find any lass in the Shire to his liking enough to court. That may have earned them a bit of gossip, as most hobbits about their age where already wed with children.

Bilbo found himself spending his days tending to his prize winning tomatoes, smoking his pipe, or pouring over old maps that he'd happened to have come across. He was also more the pleased to walk the paths of the Shire, and Hobbiton using his maps, making his favorite trails in red.

Bramblerose was not much different from her brother. She cooked for the proper 7 meals a day, and cleaned they're roomy Smial daily, taking care of her mother's heirlooms, sewing, and doing other womanly deeds as per the role of a Hobbit lass. She often accompanied her brother on his walks, packing the lunches in baskets and bringing along her drawing book to ink down whatever caught her fancy on the way.

It was just like any other day in Bag end. The siblings had just finished second breakfast, and Bilbo had gone outside to smoke his pipe. Bramblerose, or Bram as Bilbo called her, had never been found of him smoking indoors as the smell made her lungs burn, so when the weather was nice, he had no complaint for sitting on his bench, overlooking the shire, and smoking his pipeweed happily. Bram was inside washing the dishes and humming some nonlinear tune to herself, admiring the view from the round window before her.

She had looked down for just a moment to drain the water from the basin, and when she looked up, Bilbo was still sitting on the bench, but there was a stranger there, a tall man in set of grey robes with a matching pointed hat, his long beard reaching his waist line. She frowned and watched as her brother grew clearly flustered with the strange man, standing and taking the mail from the box and pretending to look it over while mouthing his pipe before he turned to head into the house. The man said something that caught Bilbo's attention, but that Bram was unable to hear from within the walls of her home. The conversation didn't last much longer before Bilbo rushed back inside, locking the round green door behind him.

Bramblerose was there to greet him, drying her hands on the apron tied around her waist. "Good heavens Bilbo. What did that man say to get you in such a bother?" She asked; her voice small and silvery.

"Hush Bram." He said, pausing to lower his head, listening to the door. He could hear the faint scratching noise from the outside, like a branch against wood, but Bram was too far away to notice. He stood sharply and went to the window to see what could have been causing such a sound, only to leap back when the wrinkled and bearded face of the man from before snapped into view. Bilbo grabbed Bramblerose's arm and pulled her with him, the shorter hobbit exclaiming in surprise.

"Bilbo, what is going on?" She hissed, as he continued to the west side of the building to peer out of the next window, watching as the strange man left down the steps and out the gate, continuing on his way.

"Well. I never. The nerve of that wizard. Talking of 'Adventures' and the like in these parts." Bilbo huffed, turning to Bram. "I think I'll be needing a spot of tea to calm my nerves after that little encounter Brams."

"A wizard? That was a wizard?" Bramblerose asked, rushing to the window to watch him go. "What sort of adventure was he talking about?" She asked, pressing her face to the glass and turning it to the side. It was all in vain, as the tails of the wizards grey robes had already vanished around the bend. Let it never be said that Bramblerose was the smartest hobbit in the shire. But what she lacked in brains she certainly made up for in heart. The only one to ever say anything mean about Bramblerose was Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, and she always found a mean thing to say about everyone.

"I didn't ask what sort of adventure it was!" Bilbo cried, indignantly as he headed towards the kitchen, expecting her to follow him.

"Why not?" Bramblerose asked, bustling along behind him. "Isn't this what we used to talk about? Going on adventures? Like Mother used to tell us about?" She put the kettle on over the fire, gathering her brothers favorite tea and a clean cup and plate from the cupboard.

"That was just foolish childhood dreaming, Brams! That was the past, and that's where such talk should stay." He said, taking a seat at the head of the table.

Bramblerose held her tongue as she waited for the water to boil. She often found herself dreaming of the world just beyond the rolling hills and tall trees protecting the lands of the halflings. She had thought that Bilbo felt the same, but apparently he'd grown out of his adventurous habits. Bram could recall as a child, Bilbo dragging her by the wrist over hill and valley, into the forests trying to find elves.

Those had been better times, Bram thought with a soft sigh. Mother and Father were waiting at home by the warm hearth to hear of their adventures in the woods. Things had been perfect before the Fell Winter.

Her wondering mind was brought back to the kitchen with the sharp whistle of the kettle.

It was an opportunity over and gone. Nothing she could do about it now. Besides, what good would she be in an adventure? Very little, she was sure.

-

It was late in the evening, just past 8, and that meant it was time for supper. Bramblerose had just finished serving Bilbo's plate and was putting the last of the kipper and lemon onto her own plate when there was a knock at the door.

Both siblings looked up, towards the door, and then two each other as if to see if the other was expecting company.

"Stay here." Bilbo said, standing up. Bram was sure that he meant to protect her, but he hardly seemed like a threat, in his night clothes and patchwork dressing gown. However, she simply nodded and set her food down on the table.

From her seat at the table she could hear the door open with a creak. That reminded her, she should remind Bilbo to oil the hinges in the morning.

There was a muffled conversation at the door, before heavy footsteps made their way towards the kitchen.

"He said there would be food. And lots of it."

Bramblerose startled at the voice. It was thick and gruff, like nothing she'd ever heard before.

"He said? Who said?!" Bilbo cried, as he trailed behind what was now a dwarf in her kitchen.

When the dwarf, bald at the top of his head, tattoo's covering his skull and knuckles spotted her, he bowed at the waist keeping his eyes trained on her frightened face. He was terrifying to the young hobbit lass, with his iron piercings in his ears, and his heavy leather and fur clothing. Hobbits wore mainly cotton clothes, unless it was the winter season, then they had more of an interest in wool. He reminded her of a bear, with his thick black hair and beard, his towering figure and the sense of intimidation that he seemed to strike into both Bramblerose and Bilbo. His hands in particular made Bramblerose want to tremble. Iron sheets of metal encased the top half of his hands, used to add more pain to a punch she could assume. His arms and head, the only exposed skin on him, where covered and tattoos, some black and fresh, others blue and old, and scars. Many scars. He was clearly some sort of warrior.

"Dwalin. At your serves, m'lady."

Bramblerose fumbled to her feet, and curtsied for the dangerous looking dwarf. "Bramblerose Baggins, at yours, Master Dwalin." She hated the way her voice shook, but could hardly hold it against herself.

"Supper smells good." He complimented, before taking Bilbo's seat at the head of the table and dove into eating her brother's food.

Bilbo, needless to say, did not look too impressed. Bramblerose hurried to his side before he said something rash to upset the much larger and much much stronger dwarf. "Here Bilbo, tuck in." She said, placing him at her seat. He gave her a look of gratitude, before he started to pick at her food. It would seem that Dwalins table manners were putting him off his appetite.

Not that Bramblerose could blame him. Did he just eat the fishes head whole?

It wasn't long before he'd finished the plate. "Very good this is. Anymore?" He asked, in what she could only hope was the dwarven equivalent of manners.

"Oh y-y-yes. Yes." Bramblerose stammered as she went for the plate of fresh made rolls sitting by the kitchen window. She slipped two into her apron pockets, before she put the plate before the dwarf.

"Help yourself." She smiled, being as courteous as she could be in such a situation.

It was like having a wolf enter your home and start chewing on your wood. You have to keep giving the wolf more wood so he doesn't start chewing on you instead.

Not that Bram was saying Dwarves ate hobbit flesh. No, no. Such depravities were for that of goblins and orcs and other such monsters she had only read about in books and heard of in the whispered talkings of rangers as they passed through.

"Hmmm, you see…" Bilbo started off what Bramblerose was sure to be such an awkward and uncomfortable conversation. "It's just that um, we weren't expecting company." He said, leaning forward a little, probably trying to coax some sort of response out of the dwarf.

Of course the fates seemed against the Bagginses at the moment, as the doorbell rang, rather sharply.

Dwalin looked up from the plate of rolls, bits of crumbs stuck in his beard. "That would be the door."

"Brams uh… Just… stay here." Bilbo said, not wanting to leave his sister alone in the company of such a frightening man, but what if the next visitor was even worse? He couldn't take that chance.

She gulped and nodded a little, standing in the corner of the kitchen, as useless as mop.

"Jumpy fellow he is, your husband." Dwalin said, finishing off the last of the rolls.

"He's not my husband, he's my elder brother." Bramblerose corrected out of habit before she realised that it might appear rude.

Not that Dwalin seemed to care too much. He was already off in search of more food. He was already in the den, fiddling with the glass cookie jar when Bramblerose caught up to him.

"Ohh! Haha!" Came a new voice from the doorway, causing both Bram and Dwalin to look over sharply. This dwarf was shorter then Dwalin, almost hobbit sized. Well, not Bramblerose sized, as she was much shorter than the average hobbit at 3'5, Bilbo being 4'2. He had a long white beard, that trialed off into two upturning tips, and short white hair that brushed the tips of his rounded ears. He was dressed in a heavy looking red robe, and upon closer inspection, had several scars on his face.

Dwalin smiled, almost a scary sight to see, and put down the cookie jar that he'd been trying to wedge his hand into, as the shorter, white haired dwarf walked into the den. "Evening Brother." He greeted with a higher and friendlier voice then Dwalin.

Bramblerose was a little shocked. There seemed to be no family resemblance. At least she and Bilbo looked somewhat alike! Both with thick curly copper coloured hair on both head and feet, both a little pudgy in the middle as all hobbits are, with fairly fair skin, and both with large round eyes, though while Bilbo's were a stunning green, Bramblerose was sad to say she gained her fathers' eyes, brown as the mud.

"By my beard!" Dwalin said, a laugh in his voice. "You are shorter and wider then last we meet." Bramblerose watched as Bilbo peeked out the door, as if trying to see if more dwarves were coming down the lane.

"Wider, not shorter." The white haired Dwarf, Balin, Bramblerose soon learn his name was, said as he stood towards his taller brother. "And sharp enough for both of us." He winked and his younger brother laughed, as he placed his hands on his shoulder as they gave each other a once over, looking for differences maybe? Changes in appearance? Injuries?

Bram had no time to think further on this as suddenly the two Dwarves gave each other a hard looking headbutt. Bilbo flinched quietly, but Bramblerose gasped sharply and covered her mouth in shock.

Bilbo seemed to be having enough of this dwarf nonsense already, but he was a respectable Baggins, not some Sackville-Baggins, so he would go about it as politely as he could. "Uh!" He tried to get his voice strong enough to catch the attention of the laughing dwarves. "Excuse me, sorry, I hate to interrupt, ah but the thing is, I'm not entirely sure you have the right house."

The dwarves ignored then as Dwalin turned to the little Hobbit lass. "Where's the panty?" He asked.

"Oh, um… this way." She said, her voice turning meek and soft as she was confronted with strange men she had never really met before. Hobbits were always unnatural shy of the larger folk, even if Dwarves weren't that much larger. She was sure that Dwalin was an exception in dwarf height, at least she hoped so.

"Oh! I didn't see you there Lass." The new dwarf said with a small, before he bowed at the waist. "Balin. At your serves."

"Bramblerose Baggins. At yours." She curtsied once more, before gesturing for them to follow her deeper into the home.

Before she was able to lead them fully into the pantry, Bilbo took tight hold of her arm. "What are you doing!?" He hissed at her under his breath.

"Don't you think the sooner they eat, the sooner they will leave?!" She hissed back, hoping it was true.

It turns out the Dwarves didn't need her full tour to the pantry, and were able to make up the rest of the distance their selves. Dwalin filled a mug with ale for his brother as the two went through the food in the pantry.

"Have you eaten?" The younger asked the older, as he swished the amber liquid in the wooden mug.

"It's not that we don't like visitors." Bilbo continued on in the doorway, with Bramblerose hovering over his shoulder. "We like visitors as much as the next hobbits."

"We even have that horrid Lobelia Sackville-Baggins over for tea once a season." Bramblerose spoke up, earning a nod from Bilbo, even though the dwarves would have no idea who Lobelia was.

"It's just that we like to know them before they come visiting."

The dwarves were not listening to their host at all, and seemed to be more interested in the hunk of blue cheese that Bramblerose was planning on having with breakfast the next morning.

"What's this?" Dwalin asked, taking it from his brother's hand to take a sniff of it.

"I don't know." Balin replied with a shrug of his shoulders. "I think it's supposed to be cheese."

"It's gone blue." Dwalin said in disgust.

"The thing is-"

"It's blue cheese, it's supposed to look like that." Bram said, interrupting Bilbo, who gave her a stern look before starting again.

"It's riddled with mold." Dwalin said, shooting Bramblerose an odd look.

"The thing is, I don't know either of you." Bilbo said, raising his voice a little, ignoring Bramblerose's whimper of sadness as Dwalin tossed the hunk of cheese over his shoulder and onto the floor with a splat, "Not in the slightest, quite right. I don't mean to be blunt, but I had to speak my mind." He paused to raise his hands in defense of himself. "I'm sorry."

Balin and Dwalin looked up at him, pausing in their nosing about. Balin smiled and nodded. "Apology accepted."

Bilbo frowned and dropped his hands. That wasn't the reaction he was expecting. What did he even have to apologise for that they were so happy to accept it?

Balin handed his now empty mug over to Dwalin. "Here now, fill this up, don't be stingy."

The doorbell rung once more, but Bilbo looked like steam might expel from his ears if he had to deal with any more. "I'll get it, Bilbo." Bramblerose said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He sighed heavily and nodded. The dwarves so far hadn't been a threat; rude, certainly, but not a threat.

Bramblerose hitched up her skirt a little as she headed towards the front door. She paused to put on a smile that was happier then she really felt before she opened the door.

Outside were younger looking dwarves.

One was blond, with two braids on either side of his beard, held in place with matching silver clasps. He also had two similar braids on each side of his face. He was dressed his rich, heavy looking furs, all his clothing in a similar shade of light and medium tan.

The other with wild and unbraided brown locks. The barest makings of a beard on his face, so she could only assume that meant he was the youngest. She had heard the stories of how important beards and hair was to the dwarven race. His clothing was a mixture of black leather and a heavy blue fabric, but mostly leather and iron clasps.

"Fili-" said the blonde.

"And Kili." Finished the brunette before they bowed in sync. Bramble rose noted that at the crown of their heads, they had a matching clasp holding their hair out of their eyes. "At your serves." They spoke together before Kili grinned. "You must be Mister Boggins's wife!" He smiled, and if it wasn't for the current situation, Bramblerose might have found it sweet, but she was currently too shocked.

It took Bramblerose a moment to recover. "It's Baggins…and I'm not his wife, I'm his sister."

The two nodded a little, before pushing their way into her home. They started to look around, taking off their outer coats and weapons! Weapons in the shire of all places! They started to hand them to Bramblerose like she was a living coat rack, and all she could do was hold her arms out and take them. Kili helped her slip his bow and quiver onto her shoulder.

"Careful with these." Fili said, handing his blades over. "I just had 'em sharpened." He placed them into her arms. She started at the nervously as if they would slice her to bits while still in their sheaths. He started to reach into his coat, pulling out all sorts of knives and daggers. He was like a walking kitchen.

"It's nice, this place." Kili said, after doing a quick peek down the halls to the bedroom. "Did your brother do it himself?" He said, as he started to scrape the mud off his boots in what she could only hope was in an effort to keep the home clean, and not destroy the wooden box in the foyer.

"What? No, It's been in the family for years- That's my mothers' glory box, could you please not do that?" Bram begged the hurt in her voice evident. Anything that was left from her mother was dearly important to her.

Kili had the decency to look embarrassed, before Dwalin burst in and took him by the shoulder and lead him into the hall. "Fili, Kili. Come on. Give us a hand."

"Mister Dwalin." Kili laughed, following along with no fight.

Balin patted him on the shoulder as he passed him. "Let's move this into the hallway; otherwise we'll never fit everyone in." He had his other hand on the beautiful oak china cabinet that their father had carved years ago.

"Everyone!?" Bilbo cried, politeness be damned. "How many more are there!?"

The doorbell rung once more, and Bramblerose was only halfway through hanging up Kili and Fili's things.

Bilbo however, was already on the way to answer the door. "Oh no. No. No! There's nobody home!" He cried, bumping into Bramblerose and almost knocking her off her balance from the force of it. "Sorry, Brams." He mumbled. "Go away and bother somebody else! There's far too many dwarves in my dining room as it is! If this is some clot heads idea of a joke-" He laughed a little hysterically. "I have to say, it is in very. Bad. Taste."

Just as he opened the door, a whole pile of dwarves fell through the entrance and landed on the foyer mat. Bilbo jumped back just in time to avoid being caught in it.

Bramblerose hurriedly placed the weapons to the side, laying them one on top of the other as she tried to help the dwarves back onto their feet. One by one she struggled to pull them into the house and back onto their feet. It would have gone better if they would all stop moving at the same time.

Bilbo was more concerned with the tallest of the guests, who hadn't been caught in the tangle. "Gandalf." He sighed heavily, suddenly understanding what was happening.

Bramblerose ignored the grey wizard for now. She was doing her best to sort of the mess of beard and limbs and dwarves on her doorstep. Eight dwarves in total, each taking the time to bow and introduce themselves as they were righted onto their feet. There was Oin and Gloin, brothers. Bifur, Bofur and Bombur, Brothers and Cousins. And Dori, Nori and Ori. Also brothers.

Bram, understandably flustered, gave a hesitant curtsy and gave her name in return. She tried to memorise a name to a face as she struggled to find room for all of their things. Luckily, it was the little things that caught her attention, and she was able to remember certain features about them to help her along.

Bombur was the fattest with a balding top and a thick ginger beard that hung from his neck like jewelry.

Bofur would not give her his hat to hang up, funny little thing it was. He had a friendly smile that seemed to put Bramblerose at ease, and his hair was parted into two, with braids that seemed permanently wind caught. His beard was the same.

Bifur had some metal sticking out of his head, the poor fellow, and would, or perhaps could, only speak in a language that Bramblerose had never heard the likes of before. It was his cousin Bofur who had to introduce him. He seemed kind enough, if a little intimidating.

Oin was mostly deaf and used a metal horn to help him hear. His grey beard was braided with two decorative braids that curled upwards.

Gloin was the only redheaded one aside from Bombur, and had almost a tree root like pattern with his beard in the silver clasps holding it in place. He was dressed in armour, and held one of the more frightening looking axe's that Bramblerose had ever seen.

Dori was one of the shorter ones, with a beautiful design of tightly woven braids in his silver hair and was dressed in red and black leather.

Nori had his hair styled into three sections, both in beard and head hair and wore only black. Something about him made Bramblerose uneasy and uncomfortable.

Ori had the shortest hair, with longer braided bits in it here and there, and he also seemed to have a fondness for knitted clothing, in comparison to the furs and leathers and metals that the other dwarves wore. He also seemed to be one of the most polite, which was comforting to Bramblerose. At least they all weren't brutes.

And then there was Gandalf. What could be said about Gandalf? She hadn't seen him since she was a wee little hobbit lass, but he hadn't seemed to age a day. He was just as she remembered, now that she remembered him then.

Of course, she wouldn't forget the four who had arrived first.

Dwalin was the largest, and by far the most frightening.

Balin was kindly and gentle, like she remembered her grandfather Took being to her as a child.

Fili was the only blonde, and also seemed to think of himself in rather high regards, if the way he strut into her home like a cock into a henhouse was anything to go by.

And Kili appeared to be the youngest, and most carefree.

Not that Bramblerose had time to study the strange dwarves. There were 12 dwarves and a wizard in her home and they all seemed to have one thing in mind: Emptying her pantry.

Which Bilbo was having none of, of course. Whatever bit of him that had been holding so desperately onto his manners was long gone now and he was to the point of shouting.

"Put that back! Put that back! Not my jam please!" He cried as the party of dwarves entered in his pantry one side and come out the other arms filled to the brink with food in a quick assembly line.

"Not that chair please! It's an antique!" He snapped, spotting Oin with his grandmothers chair. "Not for sitting!" He protested when Oin tried to gesture that he couldn't hear him.

While Bilbo was trying to control the dwarves before they tore his house apart, Bramblerose was trying her best to clean up the mess they seemed to leave they left.

It had been twenty minutes and she was still trying to scrub the mud out of the foyers carpet. Her stomach growled hungrily. She hadn't even gotten to have a bit of her supper before this whole mess started. Tears of anger and frustration were starting to burn in the back of her eyes.

"Missus Baggins? What are you doing down here on the floor?"

Bramblerose looked up from her scrubbing to see Dori, looking concerned and confused.

"I have to get the mud out before it dries and sets into the fabric." She explained, with a rag in hand and a bucket of warm water to her left. "And it's Miss Baggins, or Bramblerose, if you would. I have no husband yet."

"So, Mister Baggins is family?" Dori asked, bending down to help her.

"Yes, he's my elder brother by ten years, oh! Please, Master Dori, don't trouble yourself. Go. Eat. Drink. Be merry." Bram said, gesturing to further into the house where all the commotion was taking place. As much as she didn't want any more of a mess to be made, these dwarves where guests in her house. Albeit uninvited guests, but guests all the same. She would be a terrible host to let one help her clean.

" 'Tis our fault this is a trouble in the first place." Dori said and Bram had to smile a little. Finally. A dwarf with some real manners. "Come on, then. Two hands will get it out in twice the time and then we can both eat and drink and be merry. Hmm?"

Normally Bram would have protested more, but she was ever so hungry.

No words were exchanged pasted that point, in favour of work. Once the mud was out enough for Bramblerose to feel comfortable, she stood and put the bucket by the door, tossing the rag in with it.

Dori walked with her into the fray. "I'll make us some tea." He said, before melting into the crowd without hearing Bramblerose's protest that she could make it herself.

The lass was beginning to feel more than a little overwhelmed and took a seat on a bench, watching as the group of dwarves set up a full blown feast at her dining table. Once Bilbo accepted that all his shouting and protesting wasn't going to stop the dwarves, he joined her.

"You just had to show them where the pantry was." He groused, rubbing his forehead.

"Me? You're blaming me for this?!" She cried, standing to her feet. "You're the one who opened the door in the first place!" She yelped indignantly.

"Opened the door- Bramblerose Baggins, did you see the size of the first one!? He would have broken down the door had I not let him in!"

"The wolves of Fell Winter could not break through those doors, do you really think a hungry dwarf could!?"

"DO NOT SPEAK OF FELL WINTER IN THIS HOUSE!" Bilbo shouted, causing his sister to flinch away from him. He'd never been so angry with her, and it frightened her.

"Excuse me, Miss." Dori's kind voice cut through the tension, reminding the two hobbits that there were still guests in their house. Guests who seemed to be really interested in their conversation, and from the looks of it, they were rather angry at Bilbo for raising his voice at a lady. "A spot of soothing chamomile." He said, pouring her a cup before her eyes.

"Thank you Dori." She spoke, her voice soft and low as to not incur any more angry from her brother, or any more attention from her guests. "It smells wonderful." She nodded her head, gaining a smile from the silver haired dwarf.

Bramblerose couldn't help but smile in return, taking the cup into her hands. The heat seeped from the mug and into her bones, the smell wrapping around her like a blanket. She took a sip and hummed as it warmed her from the inside out. "It is heavenly."

Dori smiled and left, setting the tea tray down on the table. It didn't take much longer for the noise and commotion to start up again.

Bilbo sighed and went to go inspect the damage done to his pantry.

Gandalf, on the other hand, came forward to place a hand on Bramblerose's shoulder. "Pay no mind to Bilbo. He is understandably stressed, though I do believe once he gets used to them, he will find these dwarves quite enjoyable company."

"They don't seem to found of him." Bramblerose said, recalling the angry looks they had all shot Bilbo after his little outrage.

"Well, you see, to Dwarves, there is nothing more precious than women, not even gold." Gandalf explained. "They have so little women as compared to men, you see. One woman to every three men I believe. Out of all the races, Dwarf women might just have it the best. Men do most of the work, as to not have their women injured, because you see, the only thing that can compare to a woman in a dwarves eye, if children. Dwarven women carry babies to term for almost a full two years, and can only carry one at a time. Well, the ones who can carry. Two of every ten dwarven women are barren. Children are rarer than women for the dwarves these days."

"I see." Bramblerose said, starting to get the idea that all the dwarven women did was birth babies. Must be a boring life. Not that hobbit women did much more, but at least they could fill their time cooking and cleaning and sewing in-between raising children.

"Of course, most recently the dwarf women have taken to working the same jobs as the men to bring money into the house." Gandalf said. "The dwarves had not had it easy, these past few decades."

"What happened to make it hard?" Bram asked, looking up at the tall wizard. She didn't even reach his waist, so it was quite a feat.

"That, my dear Bramblerose is something that you will hear of later in the night, if the leader of our company ever chooses to arrive."

"There's one more?" Bramblerose sighed, Bilbo would not be happy to hear that.

"Yes, and he should have been here by now." Gandalf sighed, ducking to avoid the chandelier.

"He is late, is all." Dwalin said from behind the two. He was leaning against the doorway to the dining room with his arms crossed and mug of ale in one hand. "He has traveled north to a meeting of our kin. He will come." The confidence in Dwalins voice was reassuring to the Grey Wizard, but not so much to Bramblerose. Poor Bilbo couldn't take much more.

"Mister Gandalf! A little red wine, as requested." Dori smiled, offered Gandalf a little bit of wine in, one of Bramblerose's egg holders of all things! Either he didn't know what it was, or they were out of clean wine glasses.

"Oh, thank you Dori." The wizard took it and finished it in a single sip. When he went to take another, he was disappointed.

Soon enough, all of the food in the house and cooked and on the table, ready for the dwarves to destroy.

Bilbo stayed far away from the mess, more concerned with the remains of the pantry.

Bramblerose, however, was trying to keep the mess in the dining room to a minimum. Food was being tossed this way and that, some of it being caught in mouths or hands, others hitting the walls and the floors. "Please don't walk on the table!" She was currently shouting to Fili, who was passing out ales to everyone. "It's my grandmothers oak!" She cried. "And you're ruining the food!"

Fili climbed back into his seat, looking a little unsure, like he'd never had a woman yell at him before, which, according to what Gandalf said, might be true. His uncomfortable moment passed however, when the dwarves all began to down their ale. It was a truly disgusting site, as they drank with no grace. The amber liquid over flowed from the sides of the mug and into their beards and laps.

Once they finished, they slammed their mugs down, and each began to burp, trying to outdo the other. Nori went first, and it wasn't too bad. She had heard worse in the inn from the traveling men. It was when Ori stood, dressed in his brown long sleeve shirt and knitted green and yellow sweater vest, looking so polite and well meaning, releasing the loudest belch of the evening that Bramblerose was truly offended.

She flinched as the rest of the dwarves cheered and congratulated one of the youngest dwarves.

-

Thankfully for Bramblerose, not for Bilbo, the food was finished quick enough and the cleaning up was coming. The Dwarves seemed to want to do it themselves, but Bramblerose was trying her best to take control of it.

"Pardon me, that's my mother's doily, It's not a dish rag, thank you." She spoke, trying to remain calm as she took the bit of white fabric back from Nori, hoping she didn't offend him.

"But it's full of holes," Came an accented voice from behind her. Startled, Bram turned, to find Bofur there, leaning against the wall and drinking his ale.

"It's supposed to look like that, it's crochet." She corrected calmly.

"And what a lovely game it is too. If you've got the balls for it." Bofur chuckled. It took Bramblerose a minute to catch his meaning before she flushed brightly, turning red from the collar up.

"Why I- oh forget it." She mumbled, tucking the doily into her apron pocket, before spotting Bifur at her sink. "Oh! Please! Master Bifur? I can wash up, please don't trouble yourself!" She called, heading over just in time to stop him from using her best fabric napkin as a dish rag.

He spoke in that heavy, thick language that she could only assume was dwarvish. "I'm sorry, I don't quite understand…" She trailed off pathetically, sure the salt and peppered hair dwarf got that more often than he should. "Don't bother yourself, please let me do the washing up."

"Don't bother, Lassie. Bifur's a traditionalist. He won't be letting you lift a finger." Bofur called out to her with a chuckle. "Best just sit back and relax, yeah?"

"I can't relax!" She cried, "This is my home and I have to clean it the way I always clean it, or it's not really clean at all!"

Bofur opened his mouth to say something, before something caught his attention. "Duck!" He called out to Bramblerose, who gave a startled cry, ducking down just in time to dodge her mother best china being tossed through the air. Bifur caught it carefully without even looking up from the sink.

She could hear Bilbo shouting from the hall but she was still trying to catch her breath. Her mother's dishes! They were over a hundred years old!

Soon enough the singing started. It started with Kili, who she could now see was catching plates being thrown his way, and tossing them to Bifur. There was a beat being stomped from the dining room.

"Blunt the knifes, bend the forks!" He sung, and it would have been a lovely song too, had it not been for the fact that it was about her mother's dishes and silverware!

"Smash the bottles and burn the corks!" Fili joined in, his voice not as deep as his younger brothers, but still pleasant enough.

"Chip the glasses and crack the plates!" More and more of the dwarves were joining in now until every dwarf was singing, and Bramblerose was starting to feel a little dizzy.

"That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"

Oh, and then it just kept getting worse! The dwarves with instruments pulled them out, and the others played on whatever they could find. Bifur using a metal pot, Dori playing a teapot of all things, everyone else, began stamping their feet.

Dwalin of all people had a small fiddle out and Bofur was playing a small wooden flute.

"Cut the cloth, trail the fat, leave the bones on the bedroom mat.  
Pour the milk on the pantry floor, splash the wine of every door!"

Ori walked into the kitchen, carrying the largest stack of dishes in his hands. Bramblerose didn't even think they owned that many! She rushed forward to take some of them from him, to avoid anything crashing, but he dodged her hands quite nimbly.

"Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl, pound them up with a thumping pole, and if you're finished and they are whole! Send them down the hall to roll!" All the Dwarves laughed and danced and sung as they kicked and tossed the dirty dished into the kitchen, where Bifur was cleaning them faster than Bramblerose could have ever hoped to have accomplished. Now he had Ori's help, and it all seemed too unreal for the hobbit lass to even comprehend. "That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!" They all cried at the end.

Bramblerose, tried to the bone just from worry, was sitting on a little foot stool in the corner of the kitchen, when Bilbo rushed in to see all the dishes cleaned and stacked nicely, the dwarves and Gandalf laughing like it was all a big joke. "Look at his face!" Kili cried in particular, pointing with his pipe.

The merriment and laughter came to a halt where there were three firm knocks on the door. Everyone turned to look at the door, and it was Gandalf who broke the silence. "He is here."

-

He, as it turned out, was yet another Dwarf, but by this point Bramblerose would have been shocked to see anything but a dwarf. He was fairly tall for a dwarf. Not as tall as Dwalin, but still two heads higher than Bramblerose. His hair was black, with a few dignified stripes of grey here and there, and small braids coming from the underside of his hair.

His clothing, leather, armour and dark blue fabric, was rich and beautiful. He tossed her the cape that he had over his shoulder, like once again; she was a living coat hook. Him, Kili and Fili. They much be rich, to get away with treating folk like that. The many rings on his fingers might also suggest his status, but what really gave it away was that most every dwarf bowed their heads to him as he looked them over. Only Fili, Kili, Balin and Dwalin didn't. They must be close.

"Gandalf, I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way. Twice. Wouldn't have found it at all, had it not been for that mark on the door." He spoke. His voice was deep and it made Bram want to hide away like a child who was being scolded.

"Mark?" Bilbo piped up. "There's no mark on that door, it was painted a week ago!" He cried, rushing forward to check on the door, but Gandalf closed it before he could get a good look.

"There is a mark there, I put it there myself." Said the Wizard, and though his voice was soothing, it did little to calm the head of the hobbit hole. "Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield."

Thorin did not look too impressed with Bilbo. "So… This is the Hobbit." He crossed his arms, looking down on Bramblerose's elder brother.

Bilbo squared his shoulders and did his best to look presentable, in the state that he was now least. "Tell me, Mister Baggins, have you done much fighting?" Thorin asked, as he started to pace around Bilbo, he was doing his best to keep up with him.

"Pardon me?"

"Axe or sword? What is your weapon of choice?" Thorin pushed, clearly knowing nothing of Hobbits if he thought that hobbits in general, let alone a Baggins would have anything to do even close to fighting, let alone with a sword or axe. If Hobbits did any fighting, it would be simple fists only.

Bilbo must be on his last straw; because his reply was snarky and it made Bramblerose want to flinch. "Well, I do have some skill at conkers, if you must know, but I fail to see why that is relevant." Oh Bilbo. This is not a time to be difficult.

Thorin did not look amused or impressed, "Thought as much." He turned to his men. "He looks more like a grocer then a burglar." That earned him chuckles from the whole group, even Gandalf, and confused looks from both Bilbo and Bramblerose.

"Mistress Hobbit." Thorin said to Bramblerose, who startled at being addressed.

"Y-yes?" She asked, smoothing out her skirt and running a hand through her hair. She knew she hardly looked presentable in this state, with her hair falling out in wisps from the leather band at the base of her neck and her clothing rumpled from a long day.

"Whatever food you have left, I would request." He said, before heading into the dining room, the dwarves greeting him and asking questions of his journey. Fili and Kili greeted him as 'Uncle' and Bramblerose could sort of see the resemblance between he and Kili at least. Fili must take after the other side of the family.

Bram hitched up her skirt and bustled into the kitchen. It was just one more guest, and at least he had asked for the food, instead of just taking it. If he complained about not getting the feast that the other twelve had had, then it was his own fault for being late, and his companies fault for not waiting for him.

Using what salvageable left overs she could find, Bramblerose made a quick pot of stew, setting a bowl aside for herself. Bilbo seemed more interested in hovering around the dwarves and Gandalf, as if to catch wind of when they would be leaving.

Filling up one of her larger bowls, she placed a spoon in it, and walked carefully into the dining room, where now Thorin sat at the head of the table, instead of Bofur. Everyone was so much quieter and well behaved now. They must have great respect for this man.

"Your supper." She said, placing it before him, and wiping her hands on her apron.

He nodded his head, but gave no other thanks as he dug into the stew. Taking no insult from it, Bramblerose simple walked back into the kitchen and grabbed her own bowl and spoon. The smell was making her mouth water. Carrots and potatoes in chicken broth with shredded chicken meat for fullness. It wouldn't be much, but it would fill her till morning.

She ate it soundlessly from the kitchen doorway, Bilbo beside her.

"What news from the meeting in Ered Luin?" Balin asked Thorin, as he took mouthful after mouthful of her stew. "Did they all come?"

The room was dimly lit now, as it was now late in the evening, and not even the moon was casting a shadow. A single candle stick in the center of the table was all they had in the room.

"Aye. Envoys from all seven kingdoms." He nodded, taking another mouthful. He didn't seem too pleased, even if it sounded like a good answer to Bram. It must have been a good answer to the Dwarves, as there was a soft short cheer, claps and several "Ah, all of them!"

"And what did the dwarves of the Iron Hills say?" Dwalin pressed, leaning forward from Thorins Left hand side. "Is Dain with us?"

Thorin inhaled deeply, as if steeling himself before answering. "They will not come."

Several disappointed groans came from the table. Dwalin closed his eyes and turned his head away.

Thorin continued. "They say this quest is ours and ours alone." The reactions from around the table where mixed. Some looked like they were expecting it, others seemed indifferent, but the softer of heart ones, like Dori, Ori, Kili and Fili, Bramblerose noticed, seemed upset, maybe even hurt.

Of course, Bilbo's interest was tweaked a little. "You're going on a quest?" He asked, stepping up to stand beside Gandalf's sitting form, only now reaching his head.

Gandalf looked over his shoulder, as if he'd not noticed Bilbo there earlier. "Bilbo, my dear fellow," He cleared his throat. "Let us have a little more light."

Bilbo did as he was asked, slipping to the hall to grab a spare candle. As he did that, Gandalf began to tell the tale.

"Far to the east, over rangers and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single solitary peak." He spoke, as he fished an old, yellowing bit of paper out from his robes. It was a beautifully drawn map, from what Bramblerose could see, peaking around Gandalf's shoulder. The paper was old and soft, stiff folds worn into it, with the directions and locations written mainly in Westrom, but off to the side were ruins like Bramblerose had never seen before. She found it interesting as a hobbit alone, let alone an artist. Bilbo, however, was in love as a scholar.

Her brother had always had a heavy infatuation with maps. His study was filled with them and she was sure that if she wasn't here to get on him daily about it, the maps and books would over flow into the rest of the house.

"The lonely mountain," Bilbo read aloud, putting the candle down on the table as he leaned a little closer. It was only then in the light of the candle did Bramble rose notice that a dragon was drawn over the peak in red ink- A large dragon, by the drawings size. As big as the mountain itself it would seem.

"Aye. Oin and read the protents." Gloin began, ignoring the soft groans from those around him. Mainly Dori who couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes. "And the protents say, it is time!"

"Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain." Oin spoke up, before glaring over in Dori's direction, "As it was foretold!"

Bramblerose could only guess that Dori was a more grounded type, not one to believe in foretellings and other such things. Bramblerose couldn't blame him. Her mother had her fortune foretold when Bramblerose was just a child. The fortune teller said that Bramblerose Baggins would marry for love, and never want for nothing her whole life. How wrong the old hag had been.

Bramblerose was in her 40's well out of her tween years, and had yet to find anything close to love. And she had wants. She wanted her mother and father to be alive still. She wanted to find someone who would not treat her just like any other hobbit wife. She wanted to feel special and cared for. But alas, her little life in the shire would never grant her that, she was sure of it now.

"When the birds of yore, return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end." Oin said, clearly reciting some prophesy of some sort.

"What beast?" Bramblerose asked, stepping out of the shadows of the corner.

"Well, that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible. Chiefest and greatest calamity of our age." Bofur said, taking his pipe out of his mouth, blowing smoke into the air. How Bramblerose hated the smell of smoke.

He continued on. "Airborne firebreather. Teeth like razors, claws like meat hooks, extremely fond of precious metals." Bilbo was started to look a little pale just thinking about it. Bramblerose had to admit that she wasn't feeling the most comfortable yet either.

"Yes, I know what a Dragon is." Bilbo said sharply, nodding his head.

Ori leapt from his seat, the chair scrapping against the wooden floors. "I'm not afraid!" He proclaimed loudly. "I'm up for it! I'll give him a taste of Dwarfish Iron right up his Jacksie!"

Bramblerose gasped and turned red in the face. Such language! And from one of the last ones she expected it from!

Several Dwarves cheered him on, Nori giving him great praise, but Dori had other ideas. He grabbed his youngest brother by the arm and pulled him back down. "Sit down. Talking like that in front of a lady! Why I never. Who raised you to talk like that? Certainly wasn't me." He grumbled, sending Ori and Nori dirty looks. The young dwarf looked embarrassed now. He must have forgotten that Bramblerose was there.

"The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us." Balin said, looking down to the end of the table where all the commotion had come from. "And we number just thirteen." He paused to look about the table, "And not thirteen of the best. Nor brightest."

This sparked a whole new uproar of mutters and insults.

" 'ere! Who are you calling dim!?" Nori demanded, rising out of his seat.

"Sorry, what did he say?" Oin asked with his horn now in his ear.

Fili had enough of all this. He hit his fist against the table, making a dull sound. "We may be few in number, but we are fighters." He nodded, Kili looking to him. "All of us. To the last dwarf!" He cried, raising the moral of everyone at the table.

Kili joined in as well. "And you all forget that we have a wizard in our company!" He smiled. "Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time!"

Every set of eyes turned to Gandalf, who protested. "Well now I wouldn't say-"

"How many, then?" Dori asked.

"What?"

"How many dragons have you killed?" the Silver haired dwarf pressed on. Even Thorin looked to Gandalf, who started to cough on his smoke, trying to hold in his answer as long as possible it would seem.

"Go on! Give us a number!"

Almost instantly, without even giving Gandalf a chance to answer the whole company was up on their feet, shouting and pointing at one another.

Bramblerose gave a startled shout of shock and ran to her brother's side, who was politely trying to quiet the sight. "Excuse me, please, excuse me!"

"NO MORE!" Thorin bellowed, standing to his feet, the rest sinking back to their chairs. "If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too?" He asked, the silence now deafening in comparison to the uproar.

"Rumours of begun to spread." He continued. "The Dragon Smaug has not been seen for sixty years. Eyes look to the east, to the mountain. Assessing. Wondering. Weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours, or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor!?" He cried; an excellent orator. He had chills running down the back of Bramblerose's neck.

The rest of the team cheered and he shouted something in Dwarvish, a slight smile on his lips.

It was Balin who spoke next, his tone heavy. "You forget: The front gate is sealed. There is no way into the mountain." All the hope and excitement from the table, and Thorin seemed to die, the leader taking his seat once more, his smile gone.

"That, my dear Balin," Gandalf began, "Is not entirely true." And with a flip of his fingers, he brought forth a key from seemingly out of mid-air. It was old and made of iron, simple is shape and design, but at the same time beautiful.

Thorin looked to it with wonder in his features, "How came you by this?" He asked his voice breathy.

"It was given to me by your father. By Thrain." He added almost as an after-thought, "For safe-keeping. It is yours now."

Thorin took the key with little hesitation, wrapping his hand around it tightly.

"If there is a key…" Spoke Fili, with hope in his voice, "Then there must be a door."

Gandalf nodded. "The Runes speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls." The wizard pointed to the ruins and the small hand that highlighted a red X on the west side of the mountain.

Kili beamed, wrapping an arm around his brothers' shoulder, "There's another way in."

"Well, if we can find it!" Gandalf said. "But dwarf doors are invisible when closed." He shrugged with a sigh. "The answer lies somewhere hidden in this map, and I do not have the skills to read it… but there are others in middle earth who can."

Thorin sent the Wizard an uneasy look, as if he knew of who he spoke of. Gandalf however, continued on. "The task I have will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage," He looked to Bilbo, who only seemed confused, but interested. Now that the Dwarves were not destroying his home, he found their tale quite interesting. "But, if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done."

"That's why we need a burglar!" Ori smiled, having figured it out.

"Hhmm. And a good one too. An expert I'd imagine." Bilbo spoke up, thumbing his overalls.

"And are you?" Asked Gloin, everyone turning their attention to Bilbo.

"Am I what?" He asked, not fully understanding.

"You hear that?" Oin cried joyfully. "He says he's an expert! Hey hoho!"

"Me? What!? No. No no no. I'm not a burglar! I've never stolen a thing in my life!" He said passionately.

"Don't lie Bilbo, we used to steal food out of Farmer Maggots crops all the time as children. Always got away with it too because everyone thought it was the Took boys." Bramblerose spoke up, ducking her head that the dirty look her elder brother shot her way.

"Well, I'm afraid I will have to agree with Mister Baggins." Balin said. "He's hardly burglar material."

"Nope." Bilbo shook his head, agreeing with the oldest Dwarf.

"Aye, the wild is no place for gentle folk who can neither fend nor fight for themselves." Dwalin agreed.

Kili could be heard from his corner of the table protesting. "He'll manage just fine!"

All the dwarves were speaking to each other now, the conversations getting lost in a sea of voices. Some agreeing with Bilbo, other siding with Kili. Bifur did some hand movements, akin to a person walking onto to start breaking a big of wood into pieces. It was clear where his opinion lay.

"Enough!" Gandalf said firmly, rising from his chair, a dark shadow spreading up the walls from behind him and consuming the room. Bramblerose, still behind him, was engulfed in it, and it made her tremble. It was so cold in his shadow. So cold and alone, like she would never have a friend or see the light of day again. "If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar!" He cried, catching the attention of all the Dwarves, before he started to calm down, his shadow returning to regular size. "Then a burglar he is."

He took a moment to calm himself before continuing. "Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unnoticed by most, if they choose. And, while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of Dwarf, the scent of a hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage."

Bilbo looked terrified at the thought of it, and tried to protest, but was unable to find the words.

"You asked me to find the fourteenth member of your company, and I have chosen Mister Baggins." The Wizard nodded at the Hobbit who was now standing between Thorin and the Wizard. "There's a lot more to him then appearances may suggest. And he'd got a great deal more to offer than any of you know. Including himself."

Thorin shook his head a little, looking up at Gandalf, who simply said, "You must trust me on this."

The leader of the company nodded. "Very well. We'll do it your way." He resigned, ignoring the small 'No. No.'s to his left... "Give him the contract." He said to Balin, who pulled a folding of papers out from his robe.

Bofur smiled, and a few of the dwarves laughed. "We're in! We're off!"

Balin stood to pass them over to Bilbo, and took them with shaking hands. "It's just the usual." Balin said, as if signing up for a quest to kill a dragon was usual. "Summary of out-of-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth."

"Funeral Arrangements?!" Bilbo gasped, moving into the hallway where there was better light so he could read it better. Unfurling the contract, the paper nearly touched the ground. "Ohh…" He trailed off, skimming the top part of it.

Bramblerose snuck past Gandalf and Thorin, moving closer to her brother. She ignored the whispered of the two behind her, more concerned with what on earth Bilbo was going to do with the contract.

"'Terms: Cash on delivery, up to, but not exceeding one fourteen of total profits, if any…' seems fair." Bilbo muttered allowed as he read, a habit he had had ever since he was the one asked to read Bramblerose a bed time story before she slept.

"'Presenting company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence therefor, including, but not limited to… Lacerations….'" He dragged the word out, as if he was unsure he was reading it correctly, but continued on anyway. "'Evisceration… Incineration?" He asked, looking towards the company, not believing what he was reading.

"Oh aye!" Bofur said, quite cheerfully. "He'll melt the flesh off yer bones in the blink of an eye."

Bilbo closed the contract and whimpered softly, looking a little pale.

"You alright laddie?" Balin asked a slight tease in his voice.

"Yeah," Bilbo muttered, before taking a few deep quick breaths, "Feel a bit faint." He admitted.

"Think furnace, with wings!" Bofur chimed in, leaning forward.

"Air. I-I-I need air." Bilbo said, hands on his knees.

"Flash of light, searing pain, then poof! You're nothing more than a pile of ash!"

Bilbo grunted and swayed on his feet a little, before standing perfectly straight. Everyone watched him with breaths held. "Nope." He said eventually before he toppled over to the ground, out cold.

"Bilbo!" Bramblerose cried, rushing to his side as the dwarves laughed at his 'weak heart'. Bramblerose checked his head quickly for any bumps and soft spots, before she turned on the dwarves. "Is this funny to you?! For shame! Such cruelty I've never seen in all my years!" She snapped, as she took Bilbo by the under arms and started to drag him to the den.

"Lass, we didn't mean anything by it…" Bofur trailed off, having the decency to look ashamed.

"I don't want to hear it now, Master Dwarf!" Bramblerose glared at him. She wasn't normally this bold, but not even this dragon that they spoke so frighteningly could insult her family and get out of a scolding.

Gandalf rose to his feet. "Let me assist you where, Bramblerose. Wouldn't want you to pull your back out." He said, but even before he'd risen from his chair, Bofur had Bilbos' feet tucked up under his arms. "Where do you want him?" He asked, clearly taking the majority of the weight as Bramblerose was now struggling to keep Bilbo mostly straight.

"The den. In his chair." She said, a little stunned by the dwarves insistence. At least he was trying to make up for his behaviour, which was a point in his favour but she wouldn't tell him that, even if she had already forgiven him. Hobbits were never ones to hold grudges.

It wasn't long after they had Bilbo sitting comfortably with his feet up that he started to stir. He and Gandalf chatted over tea while Bramblerose tried to busy herself with picking up after the Dwarves. The pantry was still such a mess…

She huffed a little as she brushed her bangs aside. There goes all hope of them actually going on the adventure. Such a shame. A little changed in their lives, well, her live, would be refreshing.

"Excuse me, Miss Baggins?" A small voice from the doorway dragged Bramblerose from her thoughts. She looked up from the empty plate that had once held her prize winning cookies to see Ori standing in the doorway, his hands twisting nervously infront of him.

"Yes Master Ori?" She asked, straightening out the front of her dress.

He gulped a little. "I just… I wanted to apologise for what I said at the table. It's not right to talk like that in front of a lady and I'm sorry." He bowed deeply at the waist, putting himself at almost a ninety degree angle.

"Oh, Master Ori please don't." Bramblerose protested, holding out her hands as if to make to stop him. Not that she would be touching him. That just wouldn't be proper! She hardly knew him, or his culture.

For Hobbits, it was quite normal to touch, hold, or even embrace a complete stranger, but Bramblerose had no idea how Dwarves worked in that way. While Dori had been kind to her, he hadn't actually touched her, so she was going to assume that they weren't as affectionate.

"No!" He cried, snapping back up, his short braids swaying with the force of it. "I insulted you with my language, and that's not something that we Dwarves take lightly. I need to make it up to you." He said firmly, nodding his head as if to add a weight to his words.

"Well, we Hobbits are quick to forgive and forget. I hold no ill thought against you, so there is nothing to make up for." Bramblerose tried to get the young Dwarf to calm down. She didn't like seeing anyone in distress, especially over something as silly as a few words that slipped out without thought.

Ori bite his lip and twisted his hands in front of him. The internal battle was clear. Should he continue to push an apology on the Hobbit Lass? Or should he just take her apology as is? Bramblerose offered a small smile. "Honestly Master Ori, I forgave you long ago."

"If…If you say so Miss Baggins." Ori mumbled, accepting defeat for now. "Did you want some help cleaning up? I promise I won't sing this time." He smiled, which was surprisingly handsome for something so un-hobbity as his bearded face.

"That would be lovely, Thank you Master Ori." Bramblerose smiled, stepping a little to the left so that he could have some room to remove the empty plates and wipe down the crumb covered shelves.

The two of them worked in silence and later that night when Bramblerose went to bed, and the sound of the Dwarves singing lead her to sleep she came to a decision.

She would be the burglar for this company if her bother would not.


	2. Bramblerose joins the company, and Bilbo flips his wig.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bramblerose joins the company, and Bilbo flips his wig.

If it was Bilbo Baggins that Gandalf and the Dwarves wanted to be their burglar, then Bilbo Baggins they would get. 

Or, they would get Bramblerose Baggins disguised as her older brother, but it would just have to do. It would be close enough to the truth to please her.

It was dawn when Bramblerose snuck from the smial on the top of the hill, dressed in her brothers trousers and shirt, his gardening hat tied to her head with her hair bunched up underneath it. It wouldn’t fool any hobbit, but she would hope that it could fool the dwarves long enough so that turning back wouldn’t be an option.

She knew that, logically, tricking the dwarves wouldn’t help them favour her, but they didn’t have to like her. They just had to let her work with them.

So, like an Orc out of Mordor, Bramblerose took off running down the one path that lead out of the shire. Her brothers contract in hand, with ‘B. Baggins’ signed at the bottom. It was her signature had been slightly altered to look more like her brothers, but that wasn’t forgery. It was just, a change of style. Surly that couldn’t void the contract?

A million and one question were swimming in her head. What would happen? What would become of her? Would she be able to make it home? Would she even want to? After she’s seen the world beyond the hills of the Shire?

All of her worries, however, where shadowed by one simple joy that overflowed within her. 

“I’m going on an adventure!” She laughed as she sprinted across the border of the Shire, and into the World.

It didn’t take her very long to find the Dwarves. They must have left later then she thought they had.

“Wait!” She called out breathlessly, as she slowed her running towards the trail of ponies, and one horse. “Wait!”

All the beasts of burden stopped and their riders turned to watch her approach, pausing a moment to catch her breath. As she did, she caught some of the Company’s faces. A mixed reaction it would see, of shocked and pleased? Of course, two faces glared at her in particular. Dwalin and Thorin. They must not have wanted a Hobbit to slow them down.

“I signed it.” She announced happily, keeping her voice as low as would sound natural.

Balin took the contract from her and extended his ring into a magnifying glass. A handy invention that she was sure Bilbo would approve of.

“Everything appears to be in order.” He announced, as he folded the contract up and stuck it into his breast pocket. “Welcome, Master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield.”

There was light laughter from within the group, perhaps happy, perhaps mocking, but Bramblerose didn’t care! She was out! Out from her cozy little life in her cozy little hole, and in the world off to have adventures like her mother had!

Thorin grunted, far from impressed. “Give him a pony.” He demanded, as he turned and spurred his pony onwards. 

“What?” Bramblerose asked, turning to watch him go. “No, really, I can walk, it’s no both-EERR!” Her polite protests were cut short by her startlingly shrill squeak as she was picked up by her knapsack straps and plunked onto the back of a fawn coloured pony.

Fili and Kili laughed as they rode on ahead, leaving her to try and figure out the reins herself.

She had only just figured out to hold them correctly, learning by observation, when Gandalf rode up to her side, on a horse. “Miss Baggins.” He said, keeping his voice low. “I do not know why you are here, while your brother is not, but I do have my suspicions. I will not expose you, thought I don’t believe that your little disguise will last for long.”

And before she could protest, he kicked his heels, speeding up his horse to catch up with the others, leaving her in the company of Bombur, and Bifur. At least they were some of the less threatening dwarves.

Well. Despite what Gandalf believed, she would try and keep her identity a secret as long as she could. She was going on this adventure, whether the Dwarves liked it or not.

\----------------------------------

Bilbo awoke slowly that morning. The sun hitting his face and warming it with its early light. He smiled a little and almost snuggled deeper into his pillow when he remembered the night that he had had the previous evening.

The Dwarves!

His eyes snapped open, before he sat up in bed. Everything seemed normal. The house was quite, and the smell of breakfast was drifting down the hall from the kitchen. He quickly got dressed in his beige coloured pants and his creme shirt, slipping a red jacket on top before he headed out into the hallway of the almost too quite smial.

There were no more dwarves here. They had all gone, and from the looks of it, cleaned the place spotless, like they had never even been here. Unless Bramblerose had been up working all night. Bilbo felt a twinge of guilt stirring at the very idea. He could have helped if she had asked him too.

The living room was empty, the dining room was empty, and they hadn’t even offered them the guest bedrooms for there were only three. Not enough for ever the smallest of the Dwarves to share comfortably.

Bilbo stood in the doorway to his kitchen and smiled. Life was going to go right back to normal. No dwarves, no meddling wizards, and no adventures. Just the way he liked it.

He sniffed the air once more and turned to see a single plate set out on the table. Eggs and bacon and toast where all laid out for him, with a slip of white paper from his study slipped under the plate.

He frowned a little, thinking that maybe Bramblerose HAD worked all night and was just letting him know that she had planned to sleep for the rest of the day. Who could blame her though, after the night they had had.

When he picked the note up, however, he was quickly informed otherwise.

“I’m going on an Adventure.” Proclaimed Bram’s loopy handwriting, with her signature at the bottom.

Those…those blasted dwarves had kidnapped his sister! How dare they!? There was no way that Bramblerose would willingly leave the comforts of home, what Hobbit would!? Well! He was going to get her back, if his name wasn’t Bilbo Baggins!

\---------------------------------------------------------

“This blasted forest just doesn’t end!” Dwalin growled. “There was no way it was this large coming in!”

“We don’t even know where we are on this map, how is it of any use to us now?” Balin said, his voice as calm and as reasonable as always.

“Excuse me?” A small voice broke through the angry grumblings of the dwarves, who had slowed the pace a little to pore over an old map.

Three pairs of eyes shifted to their burglar, two glaring, the other in interest. “This is hardly a matter that concerns you, halfling.” Thorin sneered.

“I just wanted to know why we’ve been going in circles for hours now.” Bramblerose asked. “I mean… We only have so much more time before the ferry man takes his lunch break, and then we’ll have to wait for a good hour and a half for him to come back. Or we’d have to travel the Twenty miles north to the Brandywine bridge, but that seems a little out of the way for getting to Bree.”

Bram only assumed that the Dwarves would be going to Bree first, but it made the most sense. It was a good place to stop to supply and rest a bit. And honestly, if they kept this pace up they would have to stop there for the night if they wanted a good night sleep in some beds.

“We are not going in circles, we’ve been doing straight!” Dwalin protested.

Bramblerose could hardly hold down the urge to roll her eyes. “We’ve been going in circles for the past hour. See? We’ve past that tree there nearly ten times now.” She said, pointing towards the said tree, which was a small tree, growing out of the top of a very large and very rotted stump. Mother trees, they called them. The stumps, not the trees, as they gave life from their bodies. She had always been enamoured with the Mother Trees and had drawn many pictures of them; enough to fill whole books with her inked art.

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” At even this, Balin seemed annoyed. And she supposed it was for good reason. 

“I do not pretend to know the minds of dwarves, nor your customs. For all I knew, this was something all dwarves did at the start of a quest, but I think after an hour, it would be best to start moving in the right direction.” And with that, she kicked her pony gently, and started him moving just to the right of the trail that the dwarves had nearly made themselves, towards the ferry crossing.

Behind her, Gandalf chuckled at the angry and almost embarrassed mutters from the rest of the company. “Tis a curious thing, Hobbit magic. It is nothing like any other magic in this world, in fact, most Hobbits have forgotten all about it and dismissed it as myth and fables, but it is real.”

“Hobbit magics?” Ori asked softly, from the wizard’s side. 

“Oh yes. It is a subtle magic. Used to hide themselves away from the rest of the world. That is why I suggested a Hobbit as a burglar, as they easily go unnoticed by the other races of the world. The woods around the shire are a perfect example of just how strong their magic can be. These woods have a wonderful little habit of getting even the most accomplished traveler turned about and right back where they started without ever catching sight of the Hobbits who live on the other side of the trees.” Gandalf explained, a light chuckle in his words.

Ori, and a few of the other dwarves who cared enough to listen, watched ‘Bilbo’ travel up ahead with a curious look. That little creature? Magic? Unlikely. Gandalf must have had a little too much pipe weeds the night before. Not that anyone could blame him. The Dwarves would be shy to admit it, but Shire pipe weed was some of the best weed they’d ever encountered.

With little more words shared between the company, they followed after the little Hobbit, who was currently huffing and puffing about Dwarves and how they couldn’t travel worth a rock above ground, moles the lot of them really.

\---------------------------

 

Bilbo panted for air as he sprinted through the woods. This trail that the Dwarves had left behind was just…just…random! Nonscensical! It was obviously a trick to try and loss Bilbo so that they wouldn’t have him chasing after them and his little sister.

Ohh! Those blasted Dwarves didn’t know just who it was they were messing with. This was Bilbo Baggins, and he was much smarter than just any Hobbit. He knew that they would be heading towards the Ferry, and he wasn’t on pony-back. He could get there faster using the hidden trails that only the Hobbits knew of, and he would eat his own hankerchief if he didn’t beat them there!

With a new burst of energy, Bilbo crashed through the underbrush, startling birds and rabbits from their cozy homes as he ran like a Hobbit possessed. 

Before he knew it, he had stumbled onto the main road, just across from Buckleberry Ferry. The Ferry man seems to have gone on an early lunch, not that anyone could blame him. No Hobbit hardly ever used the Ferry. Had it not been for the Hobbits unusual fear of water, they might just leave the thing unattended for those who wished to use it at will.

Well. It hardly looked like the company had got here yet, as there were no pony tracks. Bilbo would just have to wait. And smile about not having to eat his hankerchief.

The Bachelor hobbit stood by the Ferry and crossed his arms. It was now time to wait and contemplate just how he would yell at the Dwarves and take his sister home.

\-----------------------------------------------

“Oh no.” Bramblerose muttered as they turned the corner of the trail, spotting what was clearly not the Ferry man leaning against the thick wooden lamp post.

“What is it?” Kili asked, from his place just behind her, as he looked over her shoulder to see what the problem was.

“I uh…” Bram muttered, ready to turn around, but it was too late.

“BRAMBLEROSE BAGGINS!” Bilbo’s voice rang out through the air. “You get over here this instant, and away from those blasted kidnapping Dwarves and back into the Shire where you belong!”

“Bramblerose?!” Kili sputtered, along with most of the company. Well, it was nice to know that she had some of them fooled this far in. A whole two hours before she was exposed and not of her own fault. Blast. Hardly a good start to an adventure.

Already she could hear the bickering. “I knew something was off, I just knew it. I could feel it in my beard.” “A woman! We almost brought a woman along!” “We DID bring a woman along, or does our Waltzing in the woods not count?!”

“Bilbo! They didn’t kidnap me, I ran after them of my own free choosing!” She called back, dropping all attempts to deepen her voice now.

“HALFLING!” Thorins voice boomed out, cut through the mix of chatter and a hush fell over the crowd. Bramblerose flinched in her saddle, as the king road towards her, fury in his face. “You dare lie to this company, to me?!” He reached out and with a violent swat of his hand, knocked the hat off her head, spilling her locks down her back.

“I didn’t lie.” She squeaked in fear, as for a moment, she was sure that he would have hit her straight off her pony.

“You forged your brothers signature, and wore men’s clothing to trick us! Where would the truth possibly be in that!?”

“I signed my own signature, as B. Baggins could be either one of us, Bilbo or Bramblerose! And yes I wore his clothing, but what good would skirts and blouses do me while fighting a dragon hmm? I was only be sensible!”

“Oooh no! Sensible would be to have stayed at home and not even dreamed about fighting a- a- a bloody dragon! Bramblerose, you haven’t had a lick of sensible in you since the day you were born, you stupid little girl!” Bilbo raged, stamping his way over to the company, who refused to move any further until this mess was sorted out.

Tears began to form in Brambleroses eyes. Bilbo had been mean the night before, but this was just cruel of him! He’d never been this way before! Where was her brother who loved her and helped her heal after the fell winter.

“Now see here!” Gandalf said, riding forward with a glower on his face. “That is hardly any way to talk to your sister, Bilbo. She was only doing what she thought was right in helping these Dwarves, and you, all content to sit in your cozy little home while these Dwarves have no home at all is hardly what your mother would have wanted from you.”

“Mother is dead, Gandalf! She is dead because Adventuring and doing the right thing by others, and not her own family was all she ever did!”

“Don’t talk about mother that way!” Bramblerose snapped, the tears that had started to well in her eyes were now spilling down her cheeks. “Mother died a hero and you have no right to sully her name like that!”

Bilbo was stunned silent for a moment. This wasn’t the Bramblerose that he was used to. Where was the soft spoken girl who did as she was told? Where was the mouse of the Shire who never once stood up for herself?

“I’m going on the journey, Brother. And if you want to follow me, that is fine, but I will not leave until the contract I signed is seen through.” Bramblerose said firmly, as she brushed her tears away with the back of her hands.

“Actually, about that contract…” Balin said, riding forward with a look of sympathy and understanding on his face.

“I signed the contract as myself, Master Balin. It is still valid, and I am seeing it through.” Bramblerose said with a nod. “I know enough of contracts from watching Father work as a child to know what I’m getting into and you cannot try to let me out so easily.”

“Lass… tis Dwarven tradition and law. Women do not come on quests unless they must. Tis bad luck, and hardly safe.”

“Gandalf told me about how little Dwarven women there are, and trust me, that is not a problem with Hobbit Women. Should I fall on this quest, you will not be condemning my village to go without children, trust me, the Shire has enough of them to go around. To be honest, we could do with a lot less.”

The Dwarves looked almost appalled to hear such talk. Honestly. Some families had twelve children and counting. One less woman to birth a child was hardly going to make an impact.

Gandalf coughed. “Might I suggest, that we take both the Hobbits along? Mister Baggins seems to be set on keeping a close eye on his sister, and it does not appear that Miss Baggins will be going anywhere any time soon.”

Thorin sighed. They had had enough distractions for one day, and he was eager to keep going, to put some distance between himself and that overly comfortable Shire. He could already feel himself softening just being near it. “If that is what the wizard suggests, but should either become too heavy a burden, do not think I won’t leave them.” He announced, before trotting on ahead.

Well. That was just grand, Bramblerose thought to herself, as she tried to compose herself, dismounting to retrieve her hat and let Bilbo get on first. They were barely out of the Shire and already she was almost being sent home. Fantastic.

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End file.
